


Artist and Art

by MySoundOfWriting



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Art, Kinks, M/M, Nudity, Painting, References to Depression, Restaurants, Social Anxiety, Wet Dream, falling in love with one's art, sex (in later chapters)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:07:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25223617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MySoundOfWriting/pseuds/MySoundOfWriting
Summary: Nothing could ever compare, Gerard thought. Nothing could ever compare to the rush of creation. That one, decisive moment, in which an idea crystallizes itself inside your mind and you can feel your heart speed up. The heat spreading inside of you, while you are coming up with a plan on how to make your vision reality. The adrenaline that makes you feel as if your whole body were on fire- who could need anything else? Who needed people? He certainly didn’t.orGerard finds his muse without noticing it. What happens when he meets the man who he has envisioned in his art?
Relationships: Frank Iero & Gerard Way, Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Mikey Way/Pete Wentz
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1: Rush

Nothing could ever compare, Gerard thought. Nothing could ever compare to the rush of creation. That one, decisive moment, in which an idea crystallizes itself inside your mind and you can feel your heart speed up. The heat spreading inside of you, while you are coming up with a plan on how to make your vision reality. The adrenaline that makes you feel as if your whole body were on fire- who could need anything else? Who needed people? He certainly didn’t.

It wasn’t like he had many people to care about anyways. He was an artist through and through and don’t they always say that the greatest minds are lacking when it comes to social competences? Not that he was considering himself to be brilliant- he was far too insecure for that and his latest creations would contradict this statement strongly- but at least he had the “lacking social competences” part down. He had lived alone since he had moved out of his parents’ house at 19, leaving any unnecessary human interactions behind. He had been lucky to find a small apartment in the outer part of town. It was dark and damp and the neighbours loved to shout at each other in the middle of the night, but it was all he could afford. It did come with a large garage though, which was the main reason why he had rented it. He wouldn’t have minded sleeping on the floor or living in a shoe-box if it meant that he could have a space to work in. here, he could work in silence and without disturbing anyone else either. He didn’t have frequent visitors anyways; no one he needed to clean up for. For the most part, there was only his younger brother Mikey. They had always been quite close, and, at a younger age, they were almost inseparable. Unlike it would have been expected, Mikey was the one always looking out for his older brother. Things had taken a turn after Gerard had moved out though, as he started pushing away his loved ones through his actions. Whenever he saw his parents, at Christmas or at Mikey’s 18th birthday party, they would choose their words carefully, as if not to agitate him. Yet he could see a sadness in their eyes. They did not have a strong connection anymore. Mikey had stayed, checking up on him frequently, but even he could not hide his worries when he came by.

Gerard sighed, taking a step back from the piece he had been working on for the past hours. One the floor, surrounding him, lay a bunch of acrylic paints. In front of him was an explosion of colours, layered on top of each other: purple, blue, green, red- all thrown on in thick, angry strokes. With a frustrated grunt he threw his brush to the floor. This wasn’t what he had envisioned at all. No thrill, no rush. It just looked as if a birthday cake had vomited all over the paper. He heard the sound of metal turning, before the door to the garage was lifted up and the fading daylight started streaming into the room, burning his eyes. As soon as the door had opened, a tall young man stepped in.

As always when he came to visit him, Mikey started by looking at the many new pieces that filled the space, before turning his eyes towards his brother, his brows draws into a frown: “Did you leave your apartment at all since the last time I was here?” Gerard, pale and paint-covered stared at the floor, still not used to the light, and nervously dragged a hand through his greasy black hair before answering quietly: “No.” No he had not left the house- he also had not showered and had barely eaten anything at least not something that wasn’t takeout or leftovers, but he did not want to admit that in front of his baby brother. He had just been too caught up in desire to create. Anything, as long as he could feel the rush. He could see that for himself.

Mikey was like that: generally pretty quiet, but also very observant. There was nothing he didn’t notice, no matter how hard Gerard tried to hide it. He looked at the paintbrush on the floor and the spots the paint had left on the wall, then turned his eyes towards the painting: “That’s… nice,” he said, slightly tilting his head to one side, “what is it?” “Awful, that’s what it is,” Gerard complained, looking at his work with disgust. “I failed. Again.” “What about that rush you used to get when painting? You always made your best work when you fell in love with it.” “I lost it, Mikey. It’s gone. I try so fucking hard to find it, I created so many shitty things trying to get to it, but I can’t reach it.”

“Then…maybe your need to stop- “Mikey pause as he saw Gerard’s expression change, “look. I know you love art and, honestly? You are really fucking good at it, but I think it is wearing you out too much. – No. Before you get mad at me- just _look_ at yourself. You aren’t happy and you haven’t been happy in years. This room, this isolation, is making you sick!” “I used to go out and meet people and you didn’t like that either,” Gerard hissed back. “Because they were using you for their own good and God knows what else they did to you that you never talked about!” “You don’t understand!”, he was screaming now, “I’ve got to create. Without it I am nothing. I need to-“, I need to chase the rush, that was what he had wanted to say before he had stopped himself. Because everything else sucked and only when he could lose himself in his art he didn’t hurt. He needed to create, in a frantic attempt to get his fix of adrenaline. He was addicted to it. It was what kept him sane.

“then take a break!”, Mikey countered, shouting as well now, “not for long. Just for a month. A week. A few days even. You need to get yourself together before you are ready to create again.” Gerard knew that he was right. _Of cause_ he knew it- it was _his_ life after all, in all its shittiness and with all the dark pits and caves that only seemed to get deeper and darker with time. He knew best how sick he was becoming because he had to _live_ it- he hadn’t expected it to be as obvious though, even to Mikey. He couldn’t sleep, so he spent his nights sitting underneath the flickering lightbulb at his kitchen table, where he would wake up in the mornings after barely an hour of sleep and with a stiff neck. He smoked too much and drank too much coffee; he never opened the windows and hardly ever had the energy to clean. Everything was grey or moldy yellow and he had to exist within this space. “And what should I , huh Mikey?” “Get out of here a bit, take a shower, for God’s sake _eat_ something- real food, Gee, leftover pizza does not count- go outside and clear your head. Who knows? You may find your artistic rush, or something else that’ll make you happy.” Gerard shook his head, not quite convinced yet. “just...give it a try, please? I worry about you, Gee. Art started out as something to help you escape from the pain. Now, I see that you are returning to where you were 3 years ago-“ “I’m not going back there, Mikey. I told you I would never. I f you want me to leave the house, fine: I’ll try. But I can’t promise that I’ll be able to do it regularly. One day. That’s my deal.” “that’s all I’m asking for”, Mikey said, with a sad smile on his face. “We could meet up in the afternoon, then go for a coffee? I know a really good place not far from here.” “Okay, fine.” “Let’s say…next Wednesday? Then you have a few days to prepare.” “okay.” “Well…,” he paused, “I need to go now, Mom’s waiting. See you Wednesday then. I’ll text you.” Goodbye then, Mikey.” As his younger brother turned to leave, he added: “and thank you…you know… for still caring.” “Always,” he smiled a bit more, “see you Wednesday.”


	2. Coffee

_This is a horrible idea,_ Gerard thought as he was looking at himself in the bathroom mirror. He had just taken a shower- a cold one because apparently the universe really hated him and broke the boiler. Or maybe some asshole had decided to take a long-ass shower right before he intended on taking his first shower of the month. The lightbulb was flickering, making annoying little clicking sounds, and a puddle had begun to form on the floor where he stood. He looked exhausted: his eyes grey with dark circles underneath then, his skin unhealthily pale and his lips pressed together into a thin line. At least he smelled good now. Of flowers and vanilla. It felt wrong though, as if he had just scrubbed of a kind of protective armour only to end up naked and vulnerable in front of the world. Well, he _was_ naked, but he did not look at himself. Not that he _hated_ his body- not as much as he used to at least- but the self-hatred had become indifference and lack of care. He started to feel nervous about stepping outside and feeling people’s eyes on him. _Fuck it,_ he thought, _you promised Mikey you’d get out and now there is n turning back._ With a sigh he turned around and grabbed a towel that lay on the floor. He turned off the lights and tapped barefoot across the small hallway to his bedroom.

What to wear? He obviously hadn’t used the washing machine in ages and so finding a clean pair of underwear proved to be more of a challenge than he had anticipated. He picked up a pair that lay on the floor, halfway hidden underneath the bed. Ew- definitely NOT that one. After a few minutes he finally found a pair that was still wearable and slipped into them. Finding the right hoodie was a lot easier as he always kept a clean one on the side, away from all the paint, for when he was visiting home. And he had definitely done the washing at least once since he last went there. He immediately gave up trying to find a pair of jeans that weren’t paint stained. He simply went for one that only had a few spots on the knees. It did have a hole forming in between his thighs but no one would look there anyways. The familiar look of the paint made him feel a little more secure in his skin.

With a quick look at his watch, he assured himself that he still had some time left. It was not even 2 p.m. yet and Mikey promised to meet him at the park a mile down the street from Gerard’s place at around half 3, after his lecture had finished. “I’ll take the bus and then we can walk from the park to the coffee place, if you like?” he had replied after Gerard had texted him to make sure that he did not have to wait too long by himself. There was no reason to be at the park early.

He decided to use the time he had left to clean up some of the mess he had made in his studio. not that he _wanted_ to restore order to the place, but he had broken a glass that he thrown at one of his disastrous creations and had managed to end up with a floor covered in glass, paint and brushes. He now brought a small bucked down with him to pick up the larger pieces of glass he could find. He would pick up the rest later. No use in accidentally cutting himself before going out. He picked up a handful of the paintbrushes as well and carefully put them back in their rightful place. They were the only things he tried to keep in order. Brushing away a strand of still damp hair, he looked around. Yeah, no use trying to clean that up now, he would only ruin his clothes and grow more annoyed at the universe. Another glance at his watch assured him that he had better get on his way if he didn’t want to risk being late and feeling Mikey’s anger. On the way out the door, he grabbed his phone and headphones off the kitchen counter. _This way, no one will start a conversation_ , he thought grimly.

The weather was mild, and the sun was shining- ideal for when you had a long walk ahead of you but not ideal if you wanted to avoid human interaction at all costs. Luckily for Gerard, he only encountered a few people on his way to the park. The dark clothes and the loud music blasting through his headphones eliminated any intention they may had had to greet him or talk to him.

He arrived at the park right at half 3, but Mikey was nowhere to be seen. There were many people here, walking their dogs, chatting, or playing with their kids. _Awful._ Gerard sat down on a bench as far away from it all as possible. _Where are you?!?!,_ he texted his brother. _Sorry. Got held up after my lecture. Leaving the building now._ “Goddamnit,” Gerard exclaimed, causing a few people to turn their heads in his direction with a reproachful look. He turned up the volume, determined to ignore the world until hid brother would arrive. But of cause, the universe hated him, which meant that, for some stupid reason, his phone hadn’t charged properly and decided to run out of battery at that exact moment. “Yeah, all this definitely was a bad idea.” After weeks of barely having any kind of human interaction, the noise started to make him nervous. No way would he find his inspiration here. Without his music to hide behind, he felt vulnerable and exposed again and he felt as if everyone was staring at this freak on the bench. The entire scenery in front of him seemed fake: people laughing and enjoying the weather, as if nothing bad could ever happen to them, presenting themselves in their best light, only to exchange gossip behind each other’s back. The sky was too blue and the grass too green. This was not life. This was not truth. This was illusion meant to tame people into satisfaction. And he hated it.

Luckily, Mikey arrived shortly thereafter, running in his direction, waiving. “Well, you certainly took your time…,” Gerard snarled. “Sorry, Gee, my professor wanted to talk about the essay I wrote for my midterms.” “What was it about?” “The importance of the bass in contemporary rock music.” “Wow…and he liked it?” “I think so. He asked me whether I played and if I was okay with him showing it to one of his former students who plays in a up-and-coming band now.” “That is great, Mikey!” Gerard said, brotherly pride swelling up in his chest. “What about you, Gee? Have you found some inspiration yet?” He sighed: “It is pointless. My art is raw and impulsive and REAL and this just does not feel this way. These people are boring and fake.” “I generally find this to be a demonstration of humanity at its purest and most peaceful and I like coming here on my lunch breaks…Sorry you didn’t enjoy it, I thought it might help you focus.” “It is not your fault I can’t function around people and hate human interaction.” “Do you still want to grab a coffee? I promise it is really quiet there.” Gerard’s stomach answered in his stead. “Sure.”

As Mikey had promised, the cafe was quiet and empty except for an old man reading his newspaper in a corner. Gerard could feel some of his tension resolve. This place was…nice. They still chose a seat at the very back- just to be safe. As the waiter came to take their order a few minutes later, Gerard even managed to look up long enough to say “A large coffee. Black. No sugar. And a BLT, please,” before staring at the apparently fascinating fake mini cactus decorating the table. Mikey ordered something called “Cake Shake”, which already sounded disgustingly sweet.

“You still love coffee I see,” he grinned, after the waiter had left. “Black like my soul,” Gerard joked in reply. “You should’ve ordered milk then,” Mikey winked in his direction. “Damn it, Mikey. You can take your Tumblr memes and shove them up your ass!” but he could not keep himself from smiling as he said it. This was not going as badly as he had expected it to go. “You know, I am proud of you,” the younger brother said, “for coming out here and pushing yourself.”

The waiter brought their food and drinks. As it turned out, a “Cake Shake” was a monstrosity of a chocolate shake with sprinkles and cherries mixed into it, topped with 3 differed flavoured heavy creams ( “vanilla, cinnamon and white chocolate,” Mikey explained) and a giant piece of chocolate cake on a stick. On the side was some fruit and melted to chocolate to dip it into. Gerard’s sandwich was huge and generously filled as well, and the mug the coffee came in was very large as well. “With every smile you create art” it said in dark letters- _how ironic,_ Gerard thought, _I wish it were that easy_ and the thought back to the paintings rotting away in his garbage can. The coffee was really delicious though- and VERY strong, which was even better. Mikey’s eyes lit up as he attacked his shake. “How can you eat this fast?” “Itsh delishush,” he replied between two bites.

They remained seated for another hour, talking. Well, it was mostly Mikey who talked, about life at home and his midterms, and Gerard was the one listening, but that was okay. He really enjoyed spending time with his baby brother and, while he found the presence of most other people intimidating, he felt that he could relax a bit in Mikey’s presence. “Do you want to do this again sometime?” Mikey asked as they were leaving the cafe, “not tomorrow, if that is too much for you, but in a week or two?” “Okay,” Gerard replied, “I’ll see what I can do.”

On his way home, he felt good. He still avoided eye contact with everyone passing him and held his gaze directed towards the ground as he walked, but he did not feel as stressed out after having been socializing as he had expected to be. Yet, pretty quickly after entering his apartment and locking the door behind him, he became once again the struggling artist. The kitchen was still yellow, the air was still thick and dusty, and he still had no inspiration. As nice as it had been to hear from his brother, his search for a creative rush had been unsuccessful and he found himself in the same place as before- maybe with a little bit more caffeine in his bloodstream. He did, however, get himself to finally collect most of his clothes and carry them downstairs to the basement, to the washing machine. After he had hung them up to dry and changed into a different shirt, he walked into the garage to clean up the rest of the mess he had left earlier, then he went to bed.


End file.
